


Runaan's Birthday Surprise

by toesalignedarch



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Birthday Cake, But it's happy I promise!, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, Happy Birthday Runaan!, M/M, May 17, Mostly Canon Compliant, Pre-Katolis Mission, Rayla is trying her best, Reappearance of heartblooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesalignedarch/pseuds/toesalignedarch
Summary: "So it's agreed. No more adoraburrs.""No more adoraburrs. No need to give him a heart attack on his birthday."Rayla sighs dramatically. "Then what do I get him, Ethari? I'm not crafty like you, I can't just make something out of thin air..." Rayla blinks. "Or can I?" She rises to her feet quickly and gives Ethari a hug around his waist. "I'll be back!"Stunned, Ethari only has time to plead, "please be careful!" before the door slams shut behind her.(or, Rayla just wants to surprise Runaan with a homemade birthday cake and things donotgo according to plan)
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Ruthari - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Runaan's Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Runaan!

"Ethari?"

"Yes, moonlight?" His back is to her, bent at a painful angle over a table. 

Rayla tucks a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, peering around from where she's half hiding behind the doorframe. "Is Runaan home yet?"

Her dad finally turns all the way around, leaning against his workbench, his project forgotten. "No," he says as his brows furrow. "He just left to train with the assassins. You're up awfully early, Rayla—what's wrong?"

"Oh, good. Don't worry, nothing's wrong." She steps into his workshop, expression at ease. "I just wasn't sure when he leaves in the mornings. It's his birthday today, isn't it?"

"Yes it is," Ethari confirms with a smile. "Good memory."

"You'd think it's just a normal day with the way he's been acting. He hasn't said anything about it at all!" Rayla walks to Ethari's side and sits on a stool, straining to get a glimpse of what Ethari was working on before she interrupted. "He hasn't forgotten his own birthday, has he?"

Ethari laughs lightly. "Well, you know Runaan. He'd rather not make a big fuss of it; he'd be reading something under a tree all day if he could get away with it."

Rayla scrunches her nose. "He's so boring sometimes."

"Hey, now." Ethari casts her an affectionate look. "Don't talk about your father that way."

"What're you working on?" she asks, changing topics. "Is that for Runaan?"

He hands her the project—a delicate and intricate miniature replica of one of Ethari's heartbloom flowers. "It's tradition that I make him something each year," he explains while Rayla examines the metal trinket with reverence. "I though, this year, to celebrate his new position as assassin leader I'd make him one of these."

"Ethari, it's _beautiful_ ," Rayla breathes. "You make him one _every year_?"

"Every year," he affirms.

"Wow." She hands the metal flower back to him before she can break one of its fragile looking petals. "I bet he's going to love it."

"He better, with all the time I've put into it," Ethari jokes. Rayla giggles, but her laughter soon dissolves and a frown replaces her smile. Her dad—bless him—notices immediately. "Rayla? What's wrong?"

"I don't have anything for him," she mutters quietly.

Ethari sighs and ruffles her hair. "Don't worry, little one. You don't need to get him anything."

"But I want to!" She huffs and crosses her arms. "But I don't know what to give him. The only thing I can think of is adoraburrs, but Runaan has made it very clear he doesn't want any more of those, not since—"

"Since you came home after last year's birthday picnic with two hundred of them hidden in your pockets?" Ethari chuckles. "Yes, I'd refrain from bringing any of those back. I can only protect you against his wrath for so long, and if you did it again this year he might not believe my innocence."

Rayla cracks a smile at the memory of Runaan's increasingly incredulous expression as she pulled adoraburr after adoraburr from the various folds and pockets of her clothes. He'd been furious, of course, but Rayla liked to think he was just the tiniest bit impressed with how many adoraburrs she'd managed to sneak into the house for his birthday. "At least she didn't burn the house down," Ethari had said in an attempt to soothe his irritated husband. Runaan had rolled his eyes, paused, then turned to Rayla with all the seriousness in the world and said, "Rayla, don't you _dare_ burn down the house."

"So it's agreed. No more adoraburrs."

"No more adoraburrs. No need to give him a heart attack on his birthday."

Rayla sighs dramatically. "Then what do I get him, Ethari? I'm not crafty like you, I can't just make something out of thin air..." Rayla blinks. "Or can I?" She rises to her feet quickly and gives Ethari a hug around his waist. "I'll be back!"

Stunned, Ethari only has time to plead, "please be careful!" before the door slams shut behind her.

***

Once she finds the appropriate book in the library—a task that takes _much_ longer than anticipated—Rayla has no trouble finding all the ingredients. She returns home with an arm full of supplies only to find Ethari rushing out the door.

"Gotta get to the smithy," her dad explains. He kisses the top of her head and whirls out the door, his final words of "behave yourself!" disappearing into the silence.

"That works out," Rayla says gleefully to herself. Now she can actually prepare Runaan's birthday surprise in secret. Setting her newfound ingredients on the table, she pulls out the rather heavy book and begins leafing through the pages until she finds the one she wants. "Okay," she reads aloud. "Flour, eggs, butter, sugar. Got it."

The next step says to add finely chopped carrots into the mixing bowl. From her pile of supplies, Rayla digs out two spindly carrots—she'd dug them up herself and she's still immensely proud of them, despite their small size and wrinkly appearance.

"Chop carrots into thin slices, then cut the slices into strips." Rayla tilts her head as she reads. "Chop carrots...cut slices into strips..."

Holding one of the carrots—the friendlier looking one—she pulls out her dagger and cuts off the end where the green leafy bits stick out. Tossing that aside, she balances the carrot with one hand and presses down on the dagger with the other, her eyes squeezing shut cautiously as she applies pressure to the surprisingly stiff vegetable.

 _Thud_.

Rayla opens her eyes—only to find her dagger wedged solidly into the wooden cutting board. The carrot, mischievous vegetable that it is, has rolled aside, unharmed. Rayla frown and tries again, this time fighting to keep her eyes open.

 _Thud_.

"Huh." Rayla blinks at the carrot, which has somehow managed to roll to the other side of the table. "How did you get over there?" She tries again.

_Thud._

"Tsk." A sigh. "You pesky carrot. Come here."

 _Thud_.

"Oh, come on!"

_Thud._

"Ah! You've _got_ to be _kidding me!_ "

_Thud. Thud. THUD._

"Blast it!" Rayla groans loudly and sticks her dagger into one of the new grooves that score the surface of the once-smooth cutting board. "Damn you, you rolly bastard."

She grabs the still unharmed carrot and narrows her eyes at the offending vegetable. "Listen here," she snarls, wiping sweat from her forehead. "I've got a very tight deadline if I want to surprise Runaan, and you aren't helping. If you don't cooperate, forget strips: I'll cut you into _chunks_ , recipe be damned!"

***

Rayla cuts the carrots into chunks.

Her cake batter ends up a little thicker than the recipes says, but she's covered in flour and her hair is matted with melted butter and her patience is long gone. The book—just as disheveled and covered with ingredients as she is—says to bake the cake at medium heat until the top of the cake is golden.

"Medium heat? Golden?" Rayla shakes her head. "What kind of measurements are those?"

Pouring the batter into a pan—a pleasant task that's ruined by the upsetting plopping noises as the chunks of carrots fall into the receptacle below—Rayla shoves the unbaked final product into the wood fire oven.

"Thank the Moon that's over," she sighs. Her eyes glance around the kitchen—barely recognizable from the one she had walked into earlier today. Much like herself, the table is covered with loose bits of flour and droplets of batter; not to mention there are carrot peels all over the floor and even one on the ceiling. She doesn't even want to think about where the eggshells are.

Another glance out the window tells her she doesn't have much time before Runaan finishes his training for the day and returns home. She sets out cleaning rapidly, sweeping most everything into her hands and dumping it outside the house (the ingredients are natural, right? So surely it wouldn't hurt to return them to nature...right?). Rayla indulges in throwing the carrot stems as far as she can into the woods, feeling victorious as she watches the wimpy green leaves wobbling feebly in the air.

Back in the kitchen, Rayla checks on the cake.

"Come on," she urges the still liquid batter. In response, a few bubbles rise to the surface and pop, spewing molten carrot everywhere. "Cook faster!" She glances around and spots some extra firewood in the corner of the house. Making a split second decision, she sticks more logs into the fire beneath the oven. "I'll just keep an eye on it," she promises herself, before she busies herself with cleaning up the rest of her mess.

***

Ethari picks Runaan up from the assassin's pavilion once he's done at the smithy. He walks hand in hand with his husband, who indulges him in this bit of public affection. The heartbloom weighs down his pocket and it takes most of his willpower not to pull it out and present it to Runaan right then and there. But he knows better than to do that; knows that if he wants Runaan's full reaction and gratitude, he'll have to wait until they get home. Speaking of home...

The two elves halt in their tracks. Up ahead is the cottage they call home, a modest yet comfortable place that they both enjoy returning to after a long day at the pavilion or in the smithy. There's usually the smell of dinner and a candle lighting the way up the stone steps—

Except now there's a plume of black smoke billowing out of the open window and they can hear frantic footsteps running back and forth along the floor. Runaan and Ethari share a frightened glance before sprinting up the steps. Runaan gets there first and throws open the door. "Rayla?" he cries into the acrid darkness. " _Rayla?_ "

"I'm here!" her voice calls out between raspy coughs. "I'm fine!"

Ethari makes it up the steps and barrels into the house, pushes through the smoke, and begins to open every window he can. He's dealt with more than enough fires at the smithy to know that inhaling smoke—especially smoke as horrid as this—can have dire consequences. Catching on, Runaan begins to follow suit. As the cooler evening air begins to draw the black cloud out of the kitchen, a grisly scene begins to take shape.

"Moon above," Ethari mutters. He looks around his kitchen and the disaster that covers it. "Is that—"

"A carrot peel on the ceiling?" Runaan finishes, craning his neck to peer at the neon orange curl hanging above him. "What—"

The smoke finally clears enough for the ashy form of Rayla to appear. She wears a guilty smile like a shield, her hands behind her back.

"Rayla!" Ethari comes to his senses first, rushing toward his daughter. He checks her all over for injuries and finds nothing, except for some eggshells in her braid and a dried clump of...something stuck firmly on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Ethari," she says. Rayla peers around him to glance nervously at Runaan, who's still standing in the middle of the room, motionless. "Hi, Runaan."

"What...happened?" he asks.

"Well." She grimaces. "I was trying to make something, but I ran out of time and lost track of the fire, so it got a _little_ burnt—"

"You—" Runaan takes a steadying breath. "You lost track of _what_?"

"I lost track of the fire—"

"Rayla." Her father's voice is so quiet she barely can hear him over herself, but she shuts her mouth anyway. One of his hands is pinching the bridge of his nose, the other clenching and unclenching around nothing. "What is the one thing I told you not to do?"

"Burn down the house," Rayla mutters to her shoes. In front of her, Ethari gives her a look.

"And what did you do?"

Rayla steps out from behind Ethari so that her parents can get a good look at the platter in her hands. Despite the destruction that surrounds her and the obvious anger radiating from her father, she seems immensely pleased with herself. "I made you a surprise birthday cake!" she announces indignantly.

" _And burnt the house down!_ "

"It's only slightly charred at most," Rayla argues. "Plus, I think you're missing the point. Cake!" She gestures enthusiastically at the platter in her hand, upon which sits a lump of charcoal that might have once been a cake. She'd tried to decorate it with little globs of icing and fresh moonberries—Runaan has to admit that at least the decorations look fairly appetizing—but even the enticing sight of his favorite fruit isn't enough to distract away from the atrocious slab of volcanic rock.

Ethari goes to stand by his husband, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "Moonlight," he murmurs. "She was trying to do something nice for your birthday."

The wide-eyed, nearly-manic look that Runaan gives Ethari conveys a thousand words.

"Yes, I know, but she's safe and the house is still standing." Ethari is acutely aware of Rayla's presence; she's pouting and obviously eavesdropping. "She only wanted to surprise you."

Runaan swallows stiffly. He closes his eyes and takes a few more deep breaths. "Well," he says slowly once his heart rate has returned to some semblance of normal. "I was certainly surprised." He looks over at Rayla, who revamps her efforts to appear as cute and innocent as she possibly can. When Runaan finally lets out a quiet sigh, her ears perk up and she smiles.

"Cake?" she offers, holding out the platter.

An unusual olive branch, but Runaan accepts it. "I would love a slice," he lies.

***

Turns out once he peels away the burnt layers (which—for better or for worse—is most of the cake), the carrot cake isn't actually that bad. It's not good, not by any means, but it's not horrendous, and judging by the state of the house Runaan decides he'll take the small victories.

"Really interesting texture," Ethari is saying. He's managed to clean off enough space at the table for the three of them to sit together, each with a slice ("slice") of cake ("cake"). "Are those"—Ethari chews thoughtfully and swallows with some difficulty—"are those actual carrot chunks?"

"My own recipe," Rayla crows proudly.

"Mm," Ethari says. Under the table a foot connects with Runaan's shin and he barely suppresses a wince. Ethari stares at him intently.

"Yes, it's... quite something," Runaan says.

Rayla turns her violet eyes to him, and asks imploringly, "do you like it?"

"I like that you thought of making something for my birthday," he replies. "It means a lot that you've gone through all this...trouble. For me."

Beside him, Ethari snorts into his glass of moonberry moscato. But Rayla doesn't seem to mind his non-answer; instead, she beams at him. "I'll make something else next year," she promises gleefully.

"Ah—" Runaan hopes his smile doesn't look as pained as he feels. "Don't worry about it, Rayla. This is plenty."

"Rayla, why don't you go get ready for bed? It's quite late," Ethari prompts. "You'll have to wake up rather early tomorrow if you want to have this kitchen cleaned before breakfast."

"But—"

All Ethari has to do is raise his eyebrows and Rayla backs down. "Fine," she grumbles. She gives Ethari a tight hug, then bestows one on Runaan too. "Happy birthday," she whispers into his ear. "Sorry about the house."

"Thank you, Rayla," Runaan murmurs back. He rests his hand gently on the back and gives her a few pats, an unspoken gesture of forgiveness.

She thunders up the stairs and the kitchen is suddenly peaceful—emptier, a bit colder without Rayla's bright smile, but peaceful nonetheless. Ethari leans back in his chair and grins at his husband. "This'll be a birthday to remember, eh?"

Runaan laughs and pushes charred cake crumbs around on his plate. "This will certainly be hard to forget," he admits with a small smile. "Did you know of this?"

"I only knew she wanted to make you something. I didn't know that would involve burning—no, what was it she said? Oh yes, _slightly charring_ the house." Ethari chuckles and shakes his head. "That elf will be the death of us one day, I swear to the Moon."

"I wonder what brought this on," Runaan muses. "She's not one to act like this."

At that, Ethari smiles. The weight in his pocket seems to be calling to him, and after a whole night of waiting he can't bear it any longer. Reaching for it, he slides the trinket across the table. "She saw me making this."

Runaan's eyes light up in recognition when he registers the silver metal. "Another one?" he asks breathlessly. "But you've been so busy—"

"It's tradition," Ethari says tenderly. He takes Runaan's other hand into his own. "I'll never be too busy for you, my love." He nods at the heartbloom that fits perfectly in Runaan's palm.

A thumb rubs gently over the delicate silver petals. "Thank you. I'll cherish it forever."

"To celebrate your prowess, your power, and you." Ethari raises his glass and Runaan mirrors him. The resulting _clink_ sounds like bells in the still air. "Happy birthday, my love."

They share a lingering kiss—one that tastes of love and sweet moonberry moscato, with just the tiniest hint of burnt cake.

 _Maybe_ , Ethari thinks slyly as they come apart. _Maybe I'll craft him a carrot next year._

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by my own experiences with cutting strips of carrots—truly one of the most challenging tasks I've ever taken on; how do people get such thin and uniform strips?! Then, fortuitously, the [official TDP post](https://thedragonprince.com/runaan-birthday/) about our favorite assassin's birthday was published and voila! (plus, a bonus prompt on [not] setting things on fire).
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are much appreciated :)
> 
>   
> _come say hi on[tumblr](https://toesalignedarch.tumblr.com/)!_


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